


The only thing that matters

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Greg is Sweet, Happy Ending, Insecure Greg Lestrade, M/M, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft is a Softie, Poor Greg Lestrade, Protective Mycroft, Sad Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: Greg accompanies Mycroft to a party, and has to deal with an asshole.Just in case, activated by violence, not between Greg and Mycroft.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 8
Kudos: 162
Collections: Mystrade is our Division





	The only thing that matters

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters belong to me.  
> Written for the Facebook group challenge Mystrade is our division: Writers and readers: a fic with the word Throw.  
> English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistake.  
> Thanks for reading!

Greg took off his tie, burying his head between his hands, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself.   
The garden was dimly lit, and the sounds of the great mansion party were barely audible.  
He did not react when Mycroft sat down on the bench beside him. They remained silent, Mycroft looking straight ahead, Greg discreetly withdrawing the tears of frustration that were trying to escape.  
He sighed audibly as Mycroft's hand began to gently rub his back in a reassuring gesture.  
\- I'm sorry," he whispered.  
\- What exactly are you apologizing for?  
Running his hands over his face one last time, he straightened out, standing shoulder to shoulder with his partner.  
\- For ruining everything? I'd understand if you didn't want to see me again. I... I should have controlled myself, but...  
Unable to find the words, Greg remained silent. At his side, Mycroft looked at him, with a calm expression.  
He really should have known better. Mycroft was completely out of his league. Everyone had warned him.   
How long would it take Mycroft, elegant and well-connected in high places, used to eating with a silver spoon, to realize that a humble, tough cop didn't fit into his elitist world?  
Why it didn't matter how well dressed or how friendly he was, he simply didn't fit into the sophisticated environment of the government analyst.   
Mycroft's friends and acquaintances considered him an upstart, a toy that Mycroft would soon get rid of, returning him to his place with little more than a dismissive smile.  
Greg's friends and acquaintances had mocked him, asking him if they had to treat him like a lord now, telling him not to get too comfortable in his Egyptian cotton bed, why it wouldn't last.   
He knew that Mycroft loved him as he did. Greg had never felt as loved as he did with him. He thought that was enough. However...  
Mycroft's hand on his felt warm and soft.   
\- How is the Secretary of State?  
Mycroft stroked his still somewhat sore knuckles.  
He really should have controlled himself. While the guy was a jerk, he was one of Mycroft's bosses, and one of Greg's missions, after all, was to end the violence, not to behave like a three-quarters bully.  
He had shown them that he was the brute they thought he was.  
It wasn't the first time he'd had a run-in with the man, he'd suffered from his idiocy before, his derogatory comments when no one else could hear them, always disguiseds with a false smile and an arrogant look.  
However, that night, at the French ambassador's house, emboldened by the alcohol and taking advantage of the fact that Mycroft had had to leave him for only a few minutes, the insufferable politician had crossed the lines.  
He had cornered Greg as he went to get drinks for him and Lady Smallwood, his eyes glowing with malice.  
\- What a pleasure to see you here, Detective. I imagine that Holmes must be somewhere else, planning world domination.  
Greg gave him a tense smile, trying to avoid him. The man stood in front of him, blocking his way and invading his personal space.  
\- Come on, detective, don't be rude. I am talking to you. The polite thing to do is to respond. Tell me, I'm dying of curiosity, is Mycroft as bossy in bed as he was in Westminster? Or would he rather he used his handcuffs on him?- Greg backed up against the wall when the infamous man put his hand on his chest. The politician gave him a predatory smile - does he like it rough and dirty? A curious guy, our Mycroft.  
Greg put his hand away, but the second man at the head of the government was quicker than he was, holding the DI's hand while the other hand was looking for his crotch. His breath reeked of alcohol as he leaned closer to him.  
\- Come on, don't play hard to get, Lestrade. We both know it's the money and the power what you like. We can have a good time together while Mycroft saves the world again. I'll show you what a real man is. Toys don't choose who to play with.  
More furious than he had ever been, Greg finally came out of his stupor, pushing the man violently, making him stumble. The movement caught the attention of some guests, who came over to see what was going on. The man almost fell, but managed to stay on his feet, lunging at him in anger.  
\- Damn you, animal, I'll show you your place, you hustler!  
Without thinking, Greg's fist came out to meet him, connecting against the politician's nose, breaking it. Some guests shouted and security members surrounded them, separating them and attending to the angry man who kept threatening and shouting.   
He felt Mycroft next to him, pushing him away. His face showed no expression, his eyes cold analyzing the situation and drawing conclusions. His voice was flat and emotionless when he spoke.  
\- Go into the garden, Gregory. Wait for me there.  
Greg trembled, nervous.  
\- Mycroft, I...  
\- Go out. I'll be right there.  
Greg did as he was told, the guards and guests moving quietly to let him pass, whispering behind his back.  
The last thing he saw before he left was the Secretary of State standing up, his nose still bleeding, in front of Mycroft, shouting something he couldn't understand.  
\- He is being treated now. His jaw is broken, it seems.  
Greg looked at him in confusion.  
\- I hit him in the nose.  
Mycroft flashed a small smile with his lips tightened.  
\- I know. That's broken too, I think.  
\- Mycroft what...? What have you done? God, it's the Secretary of State! How could you throw your future away like that?! That bastard could end your career.  
\- He could? I don't think so. But even if he does, there are much more important things than that.  
Greg looked at him, horrified. He knew how important his work was to Mycroft. He looked ahead, as the guilt made his heart race.  
\- God, Mycroft, I'm sorry, I...  
\- Really, Gregory, I still don't see why you're apologising.  
\- What will you do if you get fired?  
Mycroft came closer to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, his lips brushing against his ear.   
\- Even if that squirt had the power to terminate my work for this government, there are other governments who wouldn't mind having me as a consultant. - He left a kiss on her earlobe, while he continued to whisper. - Maybe I could open a detective agency. I would help you solve your cases at the Yard. Imagine how that would upset Sherlock. Maybe you could join me. We could call it Moonlight. By day we'd solve crimes and by night we'd fuck like rabbits. Or the other way round - Greg giggled against his will, the tension he felt dissipating a bit at the fun in Mycroft's voice - or we could go back to that little village in Edinburgh. I'd open an antiquarian book restoration business and you'd sell them. No collector could resist your smile.  
\- I don't understand how you can joke when your future is at stake.   
Mycroft stepped aside slightly, to take Greg's face in his hands  
\- The only important thing for my future that was there that night, is you, Gregory. No matter what happens, no matter where I am tomorrow or ten years from now if you are with me. I'm sorry for what you had to go through tonight. And I promise you that none of this will ever happen again. And if for that I have to break his face in every damn fool in Parliament, then so be it. Don't ever think you're not up to it, Gregory. I'm the luckiest man in the world, and none of that has anything to do with the amount of money in my bank account, orthe people I deal with every day. I don't want you to doubt it again. Never again.  
Unable to speak, Greg closed the distance between the two, kissing him.  
\- Mr. Holmes! Thank goodness I found you, I wanted to tell you what, oh, sorry...  
The man stopped a few meters from the bench, clearly hesitant. Mycroft smiled on Greg's lips, not letting him back down.  
\- I'm a bit busy right now, Prime Minister.  
\- Oh, yes, of course, I just wanted to apologise and tell you that this will not stand. If you want to go back to the party...  
Mycroft finally stepped away from Greg, standing up from the bench and reaching out to help him get up too, without looking at the man.  
\- Thanks, but my partner and I are going home now.  
\- Sure, we'll talk another day and..  
\- Yeah, we'll definitely talk.  
Greg would swear that the Prime Minister trembled a little when they passed him.


End file.
